Late Summer, Part 2b: Glaciers and Ice — Harding Icefield and Exit Glaciers

At the end of August and into early September, CJ and I headed down to the Kenai Peninsula for a long weekend. It was a trip we decided on the night before. The following day, I coached our competitive team, and as soon as practice wrapped up, we drove south, spending the night in Anchorage before continuing to Seward. Along the way, we stopped at a few spots on Turnagain Arm and spent part of the afternoon at the Alaska SeaLife Center.

Our first full day on the peninsula was dedicated to the Harding Icefield Trail in Kenai Fjords National Park. I had hiked it once before, back in 2016 on a rainy day. When we started this time, it looked like it might be more of the same. Low clouds and fog followed us for much of the day, but the rain held off, and we managed to stay dry without needing rain gear.

The better weather brought more people to the trail, so it wasn’t exactly solitary. It didn’t feel overly crowded, though, and with views this good, it was worth sharing the space.

As we emerged from the trees in the lower valley, I was surprised by how many wildflowers were still blooming this late in the season, even the lupins! In Fairbanks, we’re hard-pressed to find anything flowering in September, but here they were everywhere. It’s been nearly two months since that hike, and I still have a backlog of wildflower photos, including some new ones to add to the guide.

*Gentiana platypetala*, commonly known as Broad-petal Gentian

The blue flowers of the alpine or mountain forget-me-not (*Myosotis asiatica*) | Prints, Wall Art, and Digital Downloads

CJ looking over Exit Glacier from the trail

*Lupinus nootkatensis*, commonly known as the Nootka Lupine, in the alpine meadows | Prints, Wall Art, and Downloads

The upper part of the trail opens into wide alpine meadows overlooking Exit Glacier. We walked slowly, stopping often for flowers and take in the views. About a mile from the end of the trail, the green meadows give way to rolling rocky terrain and lingering snowfields that stretch beyond the trail shelter.

View of Exit Glacier over alpine meadows | Prints, Wall Art, and Digital Downloads

We continued past the trail’s end to the edge of the icefield, but it was getting late, and fog and mist began to roll in with a cold wind. It was nice to find a little solitude here after the busier sections of the trail.

After finding a wind-sheltered spot to eat some pitas, I headed down to the ice edge to explore a little. There were some fresh grizzly tracks in the snow along the way. It felt like being slowly wrapped in a white wall, and before long, it was time to turn around.

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With plenty of time left in the day after finishing the Icefield Trail, we walked out to the Exit Glacier overlook. This is a very popular trail and has become an iconic display of climate change. You’ll notice a handful of signs displaying years while driving into the park. Each year shows the terminus location for the given year. When you reach an overlook at the end of this short trail, you can see how far the glacier has receded in the last 20 years.

I had also visited this spot 9 years prior, in 2016. While I hadn’t planned on doing a comparison, I did have a couple of similar images that display the difference in the glacier over nearly a decade. It’s a more dramatic change than I had initially thought.

Image comparison of Exit Glacier – 2016 on the left, 2025 on the right. I couldn’t get the angle exactly right, but it’s pretty close. Also, notice the vegetation!

This view has changed so much over the past 10 years that I can’t imagine you’ll be able to see much of the glacier at all from this location in another ten. While I’ve seen signs of thinning and recession on every glacier I’ve visited over the last decade, this terminus change is among the most dramatic. It’s a stark reminder that our climate is changing rapidly and altering the face of our landscape. Which is a part of why trips like this matter.

That contrast stayed with me as we walked back; how much is being lost, and how much it still matters to be here while it’s here.

I’m glad I got to share this moment with my best friend. She makes everything feel more fun and new. CJ and I took our time, wandered off to look at flowers, watched the fog roll across the ice, and just let the trail unfold. It made the place feel less like a checklist item and more like somewhere we actually spent time.

I still have a lot of photos to edit, and a handful of wildflowers to track down, but this is one of those trips that already feels finished in my head. A good place, a good day, and the right person to share it with.